Chiaroscuro
by S. Kiley
Summary: Everyone gets a message. What does it mean? AU. Ch. 5 up!
1. Breathe

"Chiaroscuro" by S. Kiley

Disclaimer: ABC owns, I borrow. I make no money.

This is AU, based on possible spoilers/rumors regarding "Raised by Another" and "All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues" . . . think of it sort of as a theory fic. I'll be continuing in my world, regardless of what goes on in these episodes, however

**chiaroscuro**

n. the arrangement of light and dark parts in a work of art

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Charlie took one look at Claire and knew that he was in deep shit indeed.

"Please tell me there's a leak in the roof, love," he said, eyeing the large puddle she sat in. Claire turned and looked up at him in surprise, her face tear-stained. The edges of her mouth were bleeding from a gag that had been roughly tied behind her head. Charlie's eyes grew wide. "Jesus Christ almighty." She said something unintelligible through the gag, her eyes reaching out to him.

Tossing the log aside, he dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching to untie her gag. The rag fell away in his hands, stained with blood and vomit. Claire took several deep breaths, filling her lungs with sweet, clean air. "Are you all right?" he said, pushing hair away from her face. She nodded and coughed, her body shaking violently. He reached around the tiny wooden pole to undo her wrists. Blood stained the rags the Frenchwoman had used to secure her hands. When he peeled them away, Charlie saw that it was from where Claire had rubbed the skin on her wrists away while trying to free herself.

"Charlie," a hoarse whisper called out. He moved back around the pole so he was facing Claire again. Her lips were blood-stained and chapped. He looked around and caught sight of a cup lying a few feet away. Grabbing it, he stepped outside and let the torrential rain dump a few sips inside.

Claire drank what he gave her greedily and he set the cup outside again to collect more fluid.

"Charlie," she said again, her voice still strained. "Charlie, I think I've gone into labor."

Charlie's eyes went wide. "Are you sure? I mean, are you positive?"

She nodded. "Yes, yes, yes." She broke off in a fit of coughing. Charlie brought her the cup of rainwater again. "The woman—she—she gave me a needle, Charlie. I feel all funny ever since. Things don't make sense to me. "

He slid a piece of hair behind her ear and held the cup up to her lips again. He didn't want to think about the sweet high he'd grazed on as he fumbled lazily with the loose knots the Frenchwoman had used to restrain him. He wasn't sure what she had used to drug them, but his body reacted like it was the heroin he had become so familiar with in months of chipping and years of addiction. As such, he'd been much more lucid than she gave him credit for—he'd have needed at least twice what was given to knock him out completely. Charlie supposed it was probably the only time in his life he was grateful to be a former drug addict. "She gave the same thing to me too. It . . . didn't have the intended affect I suppose."

She drained the cup, and took a deep breath. "How did you escape?" she asked. Charlie looked at her eyes and saw her working extra hard to focus on him. He hoped whatever the woman had given to Claire would have little or no effect on her baby.

"She thought I was out cold—got careless about checking the knots," he said, taking the cup back outside. "I surprised her and knocked her out before she could grab that goddamn taser business again."

"Where is she now?"

"She's tied up in one of the other huts." Charlie brought the cup back in. "And I was careful about the knots." He held the cup full of rainwater up to her lips again, cursing himself. "Look, Claire, I don't know where we are on this island. It took me an hour just to find you in this fucking Swiss family Robinson labyrinth she's got built. I don't—I don't know if I'll be able to find Jack in time."

Claire grabbed at his hand. "Charlie, don't leave me."

He put his arms around her and held her tightly. "I'm not going to leave you, love. I wouldn't dream of it, all right?" He pulled away and looked in her eyes. "I won't leave you. But I don't know what to do, Claire. Do you—did you take classes or anything?"

"No, but . . . Jack had a talk with me a few weeks back about what to do when the time comes."

Jackpot, Charlie thought. "What did he say?"

Claire smiled meekly. "Most of it boiled down to, 'come find me'," she said. Charlie's face went white. "And . . .stay warm," she said, trying to think of all the different things he'd talked to her about.

"That was it?" Charlie asked desperately.

She shook her head. "There's more . . . I'm trying to remember . . . ahh!" Her entire body tensed as another wave of contractions hit her.

"Claire, Claire! Claire, what do I have to do?" She screamed in agony, her back arching. He caught her hands in his own and let her squeeze. "Breathe, love, breathe." She wailed, tears streaming down the side of her face.

"It hurts, Charlie."

"I know, love. Breathe, please, breathe." After a few minutes, her sobbing softened, and her grip on his hands loosened. She looked up at him with red eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked, brushing hair away from her face. She nodded shakily. "Okay," he said. "Do you remember what else Jack said to do?"

Claire closed her eyes, trying to think back to that day in the jungle. "Need to keep him warm," she said hoarsely. "And . . . rub him clean. Clean his mouth and nose, so he can breathe. Need to feed him." Charlie nodded, encouraging her to go on. "Don't push during the contra- contraception?" she asked, confused.

"I'm afraid it's a little late for contraception now, love," he teased. She giggled a little and he smiled.

"'M cold, Charlie," she whispered. He stood and pulled off what was left of his shirt after using it to tie down the Frenchwoman, and draped it across her front.

"I'll be right, back, Claire. I think I saw a bed in one of the other huts," he said.

"Charlie-" she started.

He knelt back down in front of her. "Take it easy, love. I'll be right back, I promise. I need you to sit here and breathe, and try and remember what Jack said, okay?"

Her eyelids drooped and she nodded clumsily, easing a hand over her stomach. "I'll try, Charlie."


	2. Push

Disclaimed in pt. 1

When Charlie returned, he was greeted by the sight of Claire attempting to pull her soaked maternity pants off. He dropped the blanket and pillow by the door and skidded to a halt in front of her. "Claire, sit back. Just take it easy, okay? I'll do that." He gently pushed her back so she was resting against the wooden beam in the middle of the room, and gripped the soaking fabric in both hands, easing her out of it, and trying to look at anything but all the exposed skin under his hands._ Pervert_, he chastised himself. He stood hastily, returning the dropped pile of bed dressings by the door.

"Did you remember anything else Jack told you?" he asked, trying to keep the mood light. "Don't we need a bucket of hot water or something? Scissors?"

Claire shook her head vigorously. "No, Jack said not to cut the cord."

"Really?" Charlie turned, in time to see Claire pulling her shirt off. He let out a cry of surprise and swiveled around so fast the world seemed to spin. "You gotta let me know when you're going to do that." Charlie stared at the wall of the hut for a moment. "All covered up now?" he asked, turning his head a little. Claire gave a little hiccup. "Claire?" he asked, turning around again.

Her face was turning red and tears were streaming down her face, her lips pulled down into what he could only classify as the saddest expression he'd ever seen on an adult female's face. She gave a hiccup again and then openly sobbed, clutching her wet shirt to her chest. "Claire?" he asked, alarmed.

"You think I'm ugly," she wailed.

He took a few steps towards her. "No," he said, taken aback. _This is not the time to have a bad trip, Claire._

She sobbed. "And you're right, I am. I'm a great huge heifer just like Thomas said."

Charlie had the feeling just then that if he ever met Thomas, dentures would surely be in store for Claire's former love. And perhaps a wheelchair. A motorized one. He hurried to her side, tossing a blanket over her to keep his eyes from . . . straying. "You're not ugly, Claire."

"Then why won't you look at me?" she demanded.

Charlie tucked the blanket in around her. "I'm just a bit uncomfortable with all this. I've never seen—that is—"

Her body racked with pain again and she cried out, reaching for him. He caught her shaking hands in his own, and knelt between her legs, his hands clasped tightly with hers. "Breathe, love, breathe."

She moaned and sobbed and screamed for what seemed like hours until the contraction subsided. Her hands went slack in his, and she took in deep breaths, gasping for air. Charlie ran his hands up and down her arms. "That's it, love. Deep breaths," he encouraged. "Let's get you out of all this mess, all right?" He stood and pulled her to her feet, making sure to keep the blanket securely around her. She took a few shaky steps with his help. He leaned her gently against the wall. "Just stay there for a second, okay?" Quickly, he took one of the other blankets and spread it out on the ground, and then helped ease her down, her back resting against the wall.

He tried to smile, sure that his face was conveying nothing but the absolute panic he felt. "There, that's better now, isn't it? Out of all that wet gunk." Claire nodded silently, still not meeting his eyes.

Charlie continued to fuss around her, setting up pillows and blankets. He found some clean rags in a wooden container in the corner and piled them high next to her nest. "Are you warm enough?" he asked.

"Yes," she said softly.

"What else did Jack tell you?"

Claire looked him in his eyes. "Why won't you look at me, Charlie?"

_Not this again_, he thought. She must have seen something in his face because she looked away and sniffled. "Hey, Claire, don't do that, okay?"

"You're in love with Shannon, aren't you?"

"What?" he gaped. "In love—are you hearing yourself? With Shannon?"

"I've seen the way she looks at you. And she's a very pretty girl."

Charlie was still flabbergasted. Where was she getting all this junk from? "Shannon? Looking at me?"

"We didn't used to be so different, Shannon and I. Men used to think I was pretty. I had a stomach. And I wore bikinis."

"Claire, you are pretty. What are you talking about, love?"

Claire's eyes were brimming with tears as she looked at him. "And I know you're a fancy rock star and beautiful women must be throwing themselves at you all the time."

Charlie reached out and brushed hair away from her face. "Claire, you are about as far away from Shannon as anybody I know. And that's a good thing. Because you're kind and you're sweet. And you're so very pretty."

"Then why can't you look at me?"

He swallowed. "I'm looking at you now, love."

"No, you're not—ahh!" she moaned as another contraction hit.

Her hands found his and she took deep breaths, crying and sobbing. "Easy, Claire, easy does it, all right? Take it easy, breathe through it, okay?" He found himself babbling to her, nearly incoherently, an unconscious stream of words going through his lips as he struggled to keep her calm. "Don't worry about the way you look don't think about anything except breathing in and out Claire in and out just like that breathe deep breathe breathe breathe I love the way you look Claire breathe deep love breathe deep that's it sometimes all I want to do is just kiss you until your knees go weak and I can take you off and do all sorts of unmotherly things to you breathe let it out let it all out in again breathe and out and in again love you've got it you've got it I wish I were a doctor and I knew all of that stuff Jack does you should be with Jack he's so good and I'm just a junkie breathe breathe breathe deep in out in out just like that . . ." he had no idea what else he told her, but had the sense after that it was probably more than he should have, self-pity mixed in with anger and helplessness and whatever feeble encouragement he knew how to offer.

When the contraction passed, she pushed him away lightly and pulled the blanket from over her body. "Look at me, Charlie."

Her eyes pierced his with stunning lucidity and he was helpless to resist. He stared at her in all her naked, pregnant glory, her body covered with a thin sheen of sweat from her labor, her arms and legs akimbo, and her hair plastered to her face. The words were out of his mouth before he knew he had said them. "You're so beautiful." Then his mouth was on hers and she tasted like sweet fire. He found her hands and held them tightly as she kissed him back. When he pulled away, her eyes were smoky, and her voice breathless. "Charlie . . ."

A contraction ripped through her abdomen and she tilted her head back and let out an ear-splitting primal scream. "Charlie, it's coming now!" She pushed away from the wall and slid down so her back was resting on the floor. Her back arched and she spread her legs wide, her hands gripping her knees. All shame and guilt gone, Charlie stared down at her vagina, his eyes going wide. He fumbled for a blanket, kneeling between her legs. She reached for him, her hands clasping his shoulders. He felt the pinprick of her nails digging into his back as she rode the contraction and he murmured to her again. As he felt her body easing down again, he reached out to touch her face.

"Time to push, love."

The sounds she made as the baby's head emerged made Charlie's skin crawl. His whole body went numb. "Do you see it?" she screeched.

"I- I see it, love. I see it. Push again. Push, Claire, push!" he coaxed. She made a guttural half moan half scream. Charlie was surprised by the way the baby slid out of her. He 'caught' it in the blanket, his mind racing over the things Claire had told him. He used a corner of the blanket to wipe the baby's nose and mouth. Its entire body shook wildly with life, its chest swelling with fresh new air, and then it gave out a cry that sounded like a Bach symphony to Charlie's ears. Claire propped herself up on her elbows, and Charlie thrust the squalling infant in the blanket towards her. "Look at him!" he cried. "It's—it's a he!"

Claire strained to sit up and Charlie put a hand around her back, pulling her up gently to rest against him and the wall of the hut. Charlie raved, marveling at the tiny squalling creature. "That's quite a set of lungs that boy has. He's going to be a bloody opera singer. Look, at that hair he's got already! He's so tiny. How can he be so small?"

Claire was eerily silent, cradling the baby gently, and using the blanket to wipe blood and amniotic fluid from his body. She touched each finger and toe, his nose, his ears, his cheek, finally coming to stare at the place on his stomach where their bodies were still attached by the umbilical cord.

"He's perfect," she said quietly. Charlie's ravings ceased in that instant, and he turned to look at her. She looked at him and the grin on his face drove her into a crying and laughing fit. "He's so very perfect, Charlie!"

------------

Charlie awoke with a start in the middle of the night, looking around in the darkness. They had fallen asleep together in a pile of blankets, the baby curled against Claire's chest and Claire curled against his. He reached out, his hands finding only cold empty space. He sat up a little and saw a shadow standing over him. "Claire?" he asked.

Pain flashed in his face and the world fell away again.


	3. Hunt

Someone was slapping his face.

"Dude!"

Charlie's eyes shot open, his hand reaching up to stop Hurley's hand before it connected with the side of his cheek again.

"Dude!!" Hurley said. "Hey, Jack I got him up!"

Charlie squinted against the sunlight as Hurley moved out of the way, and was replaced by the concerned faces of Jack and Kate.

"Charlie, are you all right?" Jack asked.

"Where's Claire?" he countered. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and moaned as the world swirled around him.

Jack sat back on his heels. "Take it easy, Charlie. You had a major blow to the head. Your heart rate is pretty fast, you've lost a lot of blood."

_Secondary concerns_, he thought crankily. "Where's Claire? Where's the baby?"

Kate put her hands on his shoulders and eased him back down to the ground. "We don't know, Charlie. Locke and some of the others are still out looking. Is there anything you can tell us about what happened?"

Jack took a damp rag and began to clean the jagged cut running from Charlie's right temple to nearly the middle of his forehead. Pain shot through him and Charlie lashed out. "That fucking hurts, Jack." A moment later two beefy hands wrapped around his wrists and held him down.

Hurley smiled down at him. "Just hold still, Charlie. Jack's gotta clean that cut on your head. You bled all over the place, man."

"Charlie, what happened?" Kate asked, her head bobbing into view over Hurley's shoulder.

"We were—oh, Jesus sodding Christ that stings. Claire—there was a woman. A Frenchwoman. I think . . . I think it was the same one we heard—" he broke off in cry as Jack administered to him.

Jack and Kate exchanged a brief glance. "Hurley, he needs stitches can you grab my bag, please?"

He nodded agreeably. "Sure, dude."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Six stitches later, Charlie lay on the floor of the cave, staring at the ceiling. Hurley stood guard by the door. Jack had instructed him to sit on Charlie if necessary to keep him still. With Charlie's input, Kate and Jack had pieced together what little they knew.

The Frenchwoman that had made the mysterious transmission was very much alive indeed. She had surprised Charlie and Claire while they were gathering fruit in the jungle, and attacked them with some kind of homemade taser made out of a metal pole and what Charlie thought had been a car battery. Charlie explained about waking up in the hut, overpowering the French woman, delivering the baby, and the shadowy figure who'd knocked him out. He left out Claire's bad trip, the searing kiss and the feeling of immense joy and pride he'd had at holding the tiny baby he'd helped deliver.

Kate and Jack informed him that Hurley had found him lying in the tall grass near the beach, several carnivorous birds already lurking about. There had been no sign of Claire or the baby.

Hurley tried to make conversation, but Charlie didn't feel like talking. He simply lay, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts of poorly tied knots and a beautiful woman and her very perfect baby.

---------------------------------------------------

It was dusk when Charlie awoke. He glanced at the mouth of the cave and saw that Hurley had abandoned his post. Charlie stood, his legs wobbly. The world seemed to spin around him, and he clung to the wall for support. He stumbled to the mouth of the cave and poked his head out. Voices drifted over to him from the nearby fire.

"…don't know where she is… no sign of this hut either . . . Locke . . . . doesn't make sense . . . no one else on this island . . . maybe attacked . … animal . . .Charlie likes her . . . stress…"

Charlie slunk away, his eyes catching sight of Locke heading towards what had become his designated "cleaning" spot, boar in one hand and knife in the other.

"Teach me to hunt."

It was not a request.

Locke did not seem surprised by Charlie's presence. Although Locke's uncanny sense usually put Charlie at ease, this time it angered him. "I believe you, Charlie."

"Teach me to hunt."

"What for?"

"Because I need to find them, Locke."

Locke shook his head, tightening the knots that held the boar's feet together. "Jack says you're too weak, still." He looked Charlie square in the eye. "I saw you get up, Charlie. You can barely put one foot in front of the other." Locke tossed one end of the rope over a tree branch and then began hoisting the boar into the air. "Besides, there's nothing you can do that we're not doing already. There are search parties going out in teams."

"Search parties that think I made the whole thing up and she's been eaten by a polar bear. They're the same ones that thought that Claire was dreaming about someone trying to kidnap her and look what happened." Charlie paused. "You think she made it up, too, don't you?"

Locke tied the other end of the rope around the tree trunk. "I already told you I believe you, Charlie."

"Then why aren't you still out there looking like everyone else?"

Locke stood and drove one end of his knife into the center of the boar. "Because I'm cleaning a boar," he said simply.

"Claire could be dead, Locke. Dead. Never coming back. Her baby could be dead."

Locke worked the knife into the boar's flesh, carefully stripping the skin away. "She's not dead, Charlie."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you were returned. Why would you kidnap someone and hold them hostage for days if you simply intended to kill them?"

Charlie fumed. "You don't understand. This woman—she's not right in the head."

"Charlie's right," a heavily accented voice offered. Charlie turned to see Sayid leaning against the trunk of a tree. "I think Danielle is disturbed."

Charlie stared. "Sayid? I thought you had left."

Sayid nodded. "I did. I only returned this afternoon. When I heard about you and Claire, I assumed it was Danielle."

"Danielle?"

"The Frenchwoman," he said simply. Charlie's eyes shot to Locke, who had paused in cleaning the boar.

"I already know, Charlie." _Somehow that doesn't surprise me_, Charlie fumed.

"Danielle was part of a research team that was shipwrecked here years ago," Sayid. "She has been on this island ever since."

Charlie paused. "Research team," he said cautiously. "What happened to the other researchers?"

Sayid's face went ashen and he looked away. Charlie's breath caught, and a sudden chilling fear swept over him. "Sayid, what happened to the other researchers?"

When Sayid looked at him now, it was with regret. "She killed them."


	4. Balance

The provisions were small; three bottles of water each and a hunk of cooked boar meat stuffed into a raggy camping backpack some unfortunate passenger had been thoughtful enough to stuff into the carry-on compartment. Sayid could feel Kate's eyes on him as he packed up his things again.

"You're staring at me," he said, slipping two large knives from Locke's collection into the pack.

Kate crossed her arms over her chest, her anger palpable in the humid air. "Do you like putting yourself in danger, Sayid?"

He grimaced. Sayid never knew how to handle the worry someone else felt about him. It made him feel uncomfortable. Worry was something he could not calm. He found it a useless emotion. Now he wished he could understand how Kate felt. If only so he could empathize. "No," he said at last. "But I know something of Danielle. I talked with her; reasoned with her before. Maybe we can end this without violence."

Kate looked away. "The sun has already set. And you yourself said that Danielle was worried about more bears."

He pulled his arms through the straps of the pack, tightening them with a gentle tug. "Then hopefully Charlie and I can catch her off guard at night."

She huffed in frustration. "And Charlie—he can barely walk, Sayid."

"But he knows Claire better than any of us. She will need a trusted face." He placed one hand on her shoulder and teased a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear gently. "This is the right thing to do."

"But this is not the right time to do it," she argued.

"Freckles?" a Southern accent called out. Sawyer loomed in the cave opening, his shadow falling over Sayid and Kate. "Well, look who's back in town." Sayid turned, pulling away from Kate.

"I want no trouble with you," he said evenly.

Sawyer took a menacing step forward. "Why do you think I'm here to cause trouble? Maybe because you beat, tortured and stabbed me, Osama?"

"Sawyer." Kate's voice rang off the cave walls like the clang of steel. Sayid watched as a five second war took place with only stares and subtle facial movements as weapons. In the end, Sawyer backed down. "Jack has my meds," he said, looking away. "Have you seen Dr. Do-good?"

"Shannon had another asthma attack. I think he's over trying to talk to the Korean woman," Kate said softly. Sawyer nodded, his eyes shooting at daggers at Sayid before he left.

Kate's body sagged as he disappeared. "I wish you would all just get it out of your systems."

Sayid turned to her. "What?"

She kicked a bottle of water on the floor angrily. "Whatever testosterone-fueled pissing contest you and Jack and Sawyer and every other guy on this island need to have. Does he think fighting with you impresses me? Do you think that going off into the jungle in the middle of the night is heroic?" she raged.

He put out a hand towards her. "Kate-"

"It's crazy, Sayid. You're all crazy." Kate stormed from the cave, pushing Charlie aside as he paused to talk to her.

"Kate-" he began.

"And you," she started. "What makes you think you're fit to hike in the jungle? Do you think bleeding to death is really going to make Claire love you? You're ridiculous, all of you."

Charlie turned to Sayid. "What the hell was that about?"

Sayid shook his head. "She's worried," he said simply. "There's nothing any of us can do for that."

--------------------------------------------------------

Television and movies had lied to Charlie. Hard core lies.

Homemade torches didn't light up nearly as much forest as they'd have you believe. And Indy never yelped in pain when burning embers drifted onto his hand.

Charlie had wrapped his hand in a shirt to help keep off the sparks and embers at first, but gave up on the idea after one set the shirt on fire and nearly incinerated him.

He grit his teeth against the pain as another one scorched his skin. On the one hand, he was glad to have something to take his mind off the throbbing in his head. One what was rapidly becoming less of another hand, it hurt like hell.

Sayid had thought that they should head in the direction of Danielle's "house", but had started up when Charlie said he remembered seeing treetops and beach outside one of the hut windows. He hadn't thought at the time to see if he could see the plane wreckage, most of his attention focused on Claire and the baby.

They reached a broad, flat clearing just as the moon peaked overhead. Sayid dropped his pack in the tall grass unceremoniously. "We'll camp here for a few hours. How much sleep can you function on?"

"With or without coffee?" Charlie jibed before catching himself. Sayid didn't laugh, and Charlie's half smile faded. "How much do you need?"

"At least three and a half hours," Sayid said simply. "I suggest you take four or five. You need to regain your strength." He ground his torch into the dirt and did the same with Charlie's. "I'm a light sleeper, so I'll hear if anything approaches, but I'd rather not attract the attention of anyone with opposable thumbs."

Charlie nodded his head. "Right."

---------------------------------------------------

Charlie dreamed.

A snake moved stealthily through the grass towards where he lay. It started out no larger than a garter snake, but grew in size the closer it got, until its head was four times the size of his own and he stared straight into one black eye and one white eye. He felt strangely unafraid; his mind completely convinced that the snake was not here to harm him.

He was also unsurprised when it spoke to him without moving its lips, an ominous warning coming through.

"You know this place," it hissed. "We must have it. You cannot take without giving back."

"Balance," Charlie said, trying to look in both eyes simultaneously.

"Yes. Even gods and monsters must use what is theirs alone—and they must understand that actions promote reactions. We cannot give without taking away."

"I believe you," he said.

The snake hissed angrily at him. "Do not believe us." Flames leapt up in both of the creature's eyes, and its black forked tongue slithered out tauntingly. "Fear us."

-----------------------------------------------------------

Charlie bolted upright, his breathing hard.

In the bright moonlight, he could clearly make out Sayid sitting a few feet away, slicing off some boar meet.

Sayid struck a match and his torch jumped to life. He laid it on the ground as a temporary campfire. "You're awake," he said. He bit into the meat and chewed thoughtfully as Charlie squinted at the light. "I was going to give you another half hour, but the sooner we get moving, the better." He offered the boar meat to Charlie. "Take some. You could use the protein."

Charlie took the meat and knife offered. "Any trouble while I was asleep?" he rasped, surprised to find his throat dry.

Sayid passed him a water bottle. "No, but . . ." he trailed off, staring out towards the tree line. "At some point, I thought I heard something in the bushes. And you were talking in your sleep."

Charlie stuffed a slice of meat into his mouth, and talked around his food. "I had a dream. . . about a snake."

The other man's spine stiffened alarmingly. "A snake?"

"Yeah. A huge talking snake."

Sayid licked his lips thoughtfully. "I had a similar dream," he said softly.

"About a talking snake?"

He nodded.

Charlie swallowed slowly. "Did it have two different colored eyes?"

Sayid took the boar meat from Charlie's hands and stuffed it into the backpack. "We need to get moving."

"Sayid." Sayid tossed the backpack over his shoulder and lit Charlie's torch, handing it to him. "Sayid, did it have different colored eyes?"

"Yes," he said simply. He turned and started hiking up the hill at full pace. Charlie scrambled to his feet to follow.

"What did it say to you?"

"We have to keep moving."

"Sayid-"

"Only one word. Over and over again, like a mantra." Sayid turned, looking Charlie straight in the face. "Darkness."


	5. Hold On

Disclaimed in Part 1

* * *

"It said protect," Hurley said, huffing as he struggled to keep up.

Jack halted so quickly the larger man nearly ran into him. "Look, Hurley, I don't care what it said. It doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't mean anything!" Hurley countered, outraged. "Jack, fifty people just had the same dream, you don't find that a little bit strange?"

"We're all tired and scared after this thing with Charlie and Claire and being exposed to the same stimuli day after day with the same people can trigger-"

Hurley put two beefy hand on either side of Jack's shoulders. "Dude, are you listening to yourself? You think fifty people just had a mass hallucination in their sleep!"

"Charlie said the person that kidnapped him drugged him-" he began.

Hurley stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are so reaching, man."

"Look, Hurley, I don't have an explanation for everything, all right? But if you're going to tell me a ten foot snake as big as my head had a private conversation with everyone last night-" he broke off, shaking his head. "Things like that just don't happen, Hurley."

He turned away again, heading back down the path towards the beach.

"Hey, dude," Hurley called after him.

"Yeah?" Jack turned again, rubbing eyes sore from lack of sleep.

"What did it say to you?"

Jack pursed his lips. "It said save."

* * *

Charlie inched out farther onto the branch, not being terribly fond of heights, and shut his eyes for a moment. 

"Charlie, what are you doing?" Sayid called up.

"Just getting my balance."

"Why don't you try doing it with your eyes open?"

_Bloody hell_, Charlie thought, and opened his eyes. He pulled himself into a crouch on the branch and slowly eased himself up, until he could grab onto the next branch. He closed his eyes again as he hefted his body onto the limb above him, feeling his feet float out into mid-air for one horrible, nausea-bringing moment. "Sayid, I think I'm going to puke."

"Open your eyes and look above the tree line first," the man on the ground replied, all business. "Does anything look familiar?"

Charlie swallowed the bile building in his throat, and pulled himself into a crouch again. He stood shakily, holding onto nearby branches for support. He opened his eyes and looked up.

_Don't look down, Charlie, Liam said as they crested the top of the hill. Just close your eyes and put your hands up and scream!_

Charlie slowly lowered his eyes so he could look out over the trees. He had told Sayid that he was no good with heights. There was no false machismo at work here. Sayid had **made** him come up here.

"_I will not recognize what I have never seen in the first place," he had argued. "You have a better chance of leading us to Claire." _

_Not if I get killed_, Charlie thought ruefully, shutting his eyes again.

"Charlie, do you see anything?" Sayid demanded.

"I'm looking," he called down, squeezing his eyes together tighter as a breeze drifted over him. It felt like a tundra wind, making the branch quake gently beneath him.

"Open your eyes and look!"

Charlie cursed under his breath and opened his eyes.

"Sayid! I see it!"

* * *

Claire had not dreamed since the kidnapping. On top of everything else, it left her feeling restless and unsettled. Her dreams had always comforted her, even when she did not understand them. In the days after the crash, they were a small element of predictability and stability in a rocky world. Whatever happened to her during the day, whatever new crisis the group faced, wherever she slept, whatever she ate, however people treated her, she could count on her dreams to be her constant confusing companion. 

Here, in this place, the long, dark periods of unconsciousness got mixed up in the long, dark periods of consciousness, so that she wasn't sure when she was awake and when she was asleep. The result made her doubt if she was still alive.

The baby had been taken from her.

Her hands drifted over her now gently rounded stomach out of habit, as if she could feel what had once been there. It had never been her intention to have a baby, but now that it was gone, she could feel only a terrible ache, as if she was somehow incomplete without it.

The walls of the room she was in were earthen, and she might have been tempted to dig her way out if she hadn't been shackled to whatever was serving as the roof. Even standing tiptoe, she couldn't touch the roof and pulling on the chains that bound her wrists only made her hurt. She was still naked, and she could smell blood on her lower body. Her breasts ached, feeling swollen and tender.

She hummed to herself and wondered how the baby was being fed, if not by her own body. She hoped it _was_ being fed.

He, she thought distractedly. It had been a boy. A beautiful, perfect baby boy.

Gone now.

Was the Frenchwoman taking good care of him? Did she know how to sing "Catch a Falling Star"? Did she know how to take care of an infant? Claire had asked the snake these questions when it came time and again. She never saw how it entered her cell, but when it was there, its body seemed to glow just enough to allow her to see it clearly. She had the feeling that it understood her when she spoke, that it comprehended every thing she said to it, and even empathized, but failed to respond time and again.

Claire told the snake everything. How she'd not intended to get pregnant, how her mother had warned her to never trust or depend on a man for anything because they'd always let you down. She told the snake about the day she met Thomas, about the day he left her with harsh words and broken dreams, just like Mom had predicted.

It listened intently, never judging, just understanding. She told it about the psychic she'd gone to for help and it sympathized and understood and made her feel better by not doing anything at all.

And when her throat was dry and sore, she hummed to herself and the snake, one song getting lost in another.

* * *

"What are you humming?" Sayid asked as they plowed through the underbrush. 

Charlie shrugged. "I dunno. Bit of this, bit of that. It helps me focus."

"It's driving me to distraction."

The shorter man grimaced at Sayid's back. "Sorry."

* * *

Kate hugged her knees to her chest and stared out over the open water from her perch at the top of the sand dune, watching Jack cast a makeshift net into the water time and again and come up empty handed. She felt like that now, searching for fishy answers in a sea filled with whales of questions. What it all meant was a mystery she'd always felt comfortable with. The answer would come to her when she least expected it, someday when she was old and gray and there was no point in worrying about it until then, she felt. Which was why it had been so unsettling She felt a presence behind her and didn't have to turn around to know who it was. 

"Why so down in the mouth, Freckles? Did the big snake tell you you weren't pretty?"

"What did it say to you, 'steal'?" she bit back.

Sawyer huffed. "No need to get nasty, Freckles. I was only playing." He cupped a hand over his eyes and saw Jack pull his 'net' up empty-handed again. "I bet Doc Occ out there wishes the snake had told him a Red Lobster was opening up here next week." He cast one eye on Kate, hoping for a smile. Or at least a grimace.

Her face remained schooled. "You don't find it at all strange or disturbing that we all had the same dream?"

"Apparently we didn't have the same dream, sweetheart. That's what's so interesting. All day, that's all I've heard anyone talk about. 'What did it say to you?' 'Did you hear what it said to him?' Like it all means something."

Kate turned and looked up at him, interested. "You don't think it does?"

Sawyer shrugged. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"What do fifty cigars mean, then?"

He winked and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "That everyone could use a smoke?" He tapped one out and proffered her the pack. She shook her head and stared down at the sand between her knees. Just like a man to change the subject. The same way Jack had that morning when she'd cornered him. Saywer plopped down next to her, and lit his cigarette, puffing gently. "So did the snake encounter really ruffle your feathers or are you just pissed off at all men in general?"

Kate bristled. "It's comments like that that make me pissed off at men in general."

Sawyer chuckled, blowing smoke rings. "Most women want to be fought over. They want to be wooed by heroes and villains alike and flirt with the bad guy and take the good guy home to mom and break hearts when they choose their man. But not you, Freckles."

She shifted, staring at him. "I didn't realize Shannon was most women."

Sawyer nodded his head to indicate where the woman in question lay on the beach, tanning while he brother attempted to tie one of Locke's many knives to a stick to make a fishing spear. "Aww, go easy on Sticks. It's a hard world out there for a woman trying to make it on her own. Besides, she's just doing what she knows." He turned to catch Kate's eyes with his own. "What you know you want to do deep down underneath all that good stuff n fluff you're touting."

"Is that really how you think of women and men? Just using each other to get what they want, never showing compassion or concern for another individual besides what's good for the me right now?" she demanded.

He shook his head. "That's the way of the world, sweetheart. Whoever told you different was lying."

She snorted. "No wonder everyone hates you," she spat. She stood and headed off towards the ocean.

"Kate," he said.

It stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned, crossing her arms over her chest. "What?"

Sawyer puffed on his cigarette again before he answered. "What did it say to you?"

She hesitated for only a moment. "It said Hold on," she paused. "What did it say to you?"

"That's funny," he said, a tiny smile flittering across his lips. "It told me 'Let Go'."

End Part 5


End file.
